


One Racket, Two Balls

by jacklles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkward Harry, F/M, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Pining, Pining Harry, almost rape scene, but its quickly shut down, poor harry is so awkward, slut slamming, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacklles/pseuds/jacklles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Harry, thanks to a blessing from a certain godess of love, knows the moment he sees Tuesday Richards that she is the girl for him. The thing is, she doesn't know that and currently is in a relationship with someone other than Harry. Which is all sorts of terrible, of course.<br/>Or the five times Harry was there for her when she didn’t need him, and the one time he was when she did.<br/>(Harry does a load of pining and is pretty awkward but pulls through at the very end.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Racket, Two Balls

**Author's Note:**

> there is an almost rape scene, so if it is triggering please don’t read. Also I kind of rewrote history a little in that the Roman Empire was founded just before the Peloponnesian War. For most people I guess that wouldn’t really matter but I am a history nut so I wanted it to be accurate and if I couldn’t make it accurate, then I just completely changed the date to make it believable.
> 
> ALSO I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT CHESHIRE IS LIKE IRL SO FORGIVE ME IF IT IS WRONG OR JUST SOUNDS BAD I’M AMERICAN.

***Britain ~ 441 B.C**.*

Long ago when humans still worshiped gods and goddesses, there was a young man named Stylus. Stylus lived in Athens, but was forced to flee to Britain with his family and take refuge in the Roman Empire when the savage and brutal Spartans attacked Athens. There in Britain, most of his neighbors and fellow townsmen worshipped Roman gods, but Stylus chose to still be faithful to the gods of his childhood.

Every year when all the other citizens made their sacrifices to Jupiter, Mercury, Mars and the other Roman gods, Stylus slaughtered the best of his livestock and offered it as a burnt offering to Zeus, Apollo, Athena and the other Greek gods. He also made a separate sacrifice to Aphrodite, because he believed she was the reason he had met his wife, whom he loved fiercely. Eventually, Aphrodite noticed his special offering to her and she was greatly pleased. As a reward for his piousness, she appeared to him on night in a dream.

In it she said, “Stylus, son of Androse, do not fear for I have seen your works and how you remain true to your Greek heritage, even when those around you worship Roman deities. I also have seen that you honor me specially, and I am here to reward you. From now on, your children and your children’s children will know who they are destined to marry the moment they see them. You and your posterity will always love your spouse, and will know no more arguments or conflicts in your marriage. May you live long and prosper, faithful servant.”

 The next morning Stylus remembered what he had dreamed and was not sure if it was real or not. Two years later his doubts were laid to rest when his son, Doron, came rushing into their hut carrying on about a girl he saw in the market. He had said that the moment he had laid eyes on her, he felt a swooping feeling in his stomach and for some reason he knew without a doubt that he was going to marry her. When Stylus heard this, he knew it was because of Aphrodite and he immediately made a sacrifice of thanks to her, knowing that her gift was rare, unusual and one to be eternally thankful for. Generations later the descendants of Stylus were still blessed with Aphrodite’s gift. One man named William was so blown away by the love he felt for his wife, he wrote countless poems about her and later became famous because of them. Stylus’ blessing was soon known as “love at first sight” and countless books, movies, songs, paintings, and plays were made trying to describe it. Young girls all over the world would sigh dreamily after finishing books written by a young man named Nicholas—another  one of Stylus’ descendants—wishing they  would one day have a love like his.

Thousands of years later and the world was changed all because a man was thankful to the goddess of love for his wife.

~~~

***Cheshire, England ~ over 2,500 years later***

“Good morning! Can I get a racket and two balls please?”

Harry looked up from the magazine he had been thumbing lazily through and almost choked on his Yoohoo.

Standing before him, in a yellow Shangri-Las t-shirt, white tennis skirt, and orange converses was a creature the likes of which he had not seen in a long time.

When he had gotten a job at the local tennis court at the beginning of the summer, Harry had thought he would be spending most of his time around sixty-year old men enjoying their retirement and seven-year olds expending all of their energy before their moms came to pick them up. The girl standing in front of him, however, matched neither description. On the surface, she didn’t seem overly intimidating—especially since Harry was a good foot taller than her—but for some reason Harry didn’t answer her question or move to fulfill her request. Instead he chose to stare, openmouthed in shocked silence like he was some ogling tourist at a zoo seeing a lion for the first time.

After a few moments of silence that were excruciatingly awkward, Harry snapped out of his reverie and stooped to retrieve her tennis racket and balls, setting them on the counter in front of them. She smiled brightly and turned around with a flip of her hair, unknowingly leaving him with some intense internal conflict.

Harry, of course, could have said he didn’t know why he stared. Or, he could have said that it was because she was the first person his age that he had seen in months, or that it was his hormones acting up, because Harry wasn’t blind and she definitely was an improvement from the wrinkly men and drooling boys he saw most days. He could have claimed shock, but he had a sinking suspicion he knew better.

When he was a boy, it was his mother’s favorite story to tell him. About one of his ancestors named Stylus who gained Aphrodite’s attention and gave his family the gift to know who their soul mate was the moment they saw him or her. Of course Harry had always thought that it was just a story, but his mother would claim that it happened to her when she saw his father. She would say it felt like her heart had sprouted wings and flown away.

As a boy, Harry never truly understood what she was talking about, he just liked the way her hand would absentmindedly start running through his curls and how her voice got soft when she did. As a teenager, he had thought he understood, but he realized that he was drawn to a girl’s body, not her soul, and it wasn’t his heart that was getting excited, but another part of his body. But now as a twenty-two year old, and after laying eyes on her, he finally knew what his mother was trying to tell him all those years ago.

He didn’t know how or why, but his heart soared when his eyes met hers.

Of course, the fact that it happened scared him to death. He hadn’t ever actually believed in the old family legend until just then and he also wasn’t sure how the whole, “meeting your soul mate” thing went. Was he supposed to tell her? Harry didn’t know how he would without sounding creepy. “Hi, you don’t know me from Adam, but I’m your soul mate. So when’s the wedding date?” Harry snorted softly to himself as he sat back down in his chair to try to focus on the magazine again, but instead his mind kept wandering back to the girl.

 He was actually terrified that somehow she wouldn’t reciprocate the feeling, even though he had thought that the whole, “soul-mate” thing meant that the affection was mutual. Whatever. He was still scared out of his mind.

Well. Maybe scared was a little harsh. It was actually more like a confusing mix of nervous and excited, so much so that his stomach was a mess of butterflies and caterpillars. Butterflies were good; fluttery and light and nice. Caterpillars, not so much. They tickled your insides in the worst imaginable way and Harry knew that because once he actually ate a caterpillar in the 3rd grade for a dare. He had awful stomach aches for a week, but the limited edition power rangers action figures had been worth it.

But basically, Harry’s insides from then on became a war zone full of various insects (which actually sounds really disgusting but it was terribly uncomfortable for Harry). Days passed after their first meeting and the caterpillar and butterflies had started to calm down, and Harry began reason with himself that he was over it. Over _her_. It was only a crush.

Except no matter how long she stayed away, the caterpillars and butterflies would start up into what Harry thought was a rave in his stomach whenever he saw a flash of golden blonde or catch a whiff of her lavender perfume. And Harry somehow knew that it was _way_ more than a crush.

~~~

(1) “A racket and two balls, please,” she said on one Wednesday morning and Harry desperately wanted to keep her there for longer than the usual fifteen seconds it took to find her racket and tennis balls. Not knowing what else to do, and because he is a _smooth_ son of a gun, Harry blurted out, “Hello!”

The girl’s eyebrow and mouth twitched at the same time, and Harry wanted to kick himself because apparently not spending time with people your own age turns you into _freaking Rainman_.

“I-I mean it’s nice to see you again and I um…I was wondering if you—I mean what is—”

“It’s nice to see you again too, and…what is my name? I’ll tell you as long as you don’t laugh at me,” she said teasingly and Harry could have kissed her. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and said quietly, “I would never laugh at you.”

The girl had a strange look on her face, but she said, “All right, but it’s kinda weird just warning you.”

Harry blinked at her expectantly, though a worm of doubt was wiggling its way into his belly. There was a girl in his seventh grade class whose middle name was Xena Warrior Princess so it couldn’t be weirder than that…could it?

She eyed him for a moment longer and finally said, “Tuesday. My name is Tuesday Richards. Don’t laugh now!”

Harry wasn’t laughing. He was gaping at her in awe. _Tuesday Richards_ was probably the best name he had ever heard and it suited her perfectly.

Apparently Tuesday took his open-mouthed expression the wrong way, because she frowned and said sharply, “Just because something is new and different doesn’t mean it’s bad. And it’s incredibly tacky to judge someone on something they have no control over,” She then jerked the racket and balls out of his limp hands and stalked off.

Well great. Did he really just offend his soul mate in just one conversation that was less than a minute? It wasn’t even a conversation really, it was just Harry stumbling over his words and Tuesday saving him and then unnecessarily getting angry and defending herself to the _one_ person who would rather eat another hundred caterpillars than hurt her in any way.

Harry slumped in his chair and ran his hand over his face, groaning. This soul mate stuff was hard when you could barely talk to them.

~~~

“BeforeyousayanythingIjustwanttoapologizeaboutlastweekandIactuallythinkTuesdayRichardsisthecoolestnameeverandIhopeyouwillforgivemeoneday.” Harry blurts, his chest heaving slightly.

Tuesday blinked and said, “Oh.”

Harry was very close to gaping at her again, but he caught himself, “you understood that?”

Tuesday grinned impishly and Harry’s chest started heaving again, “Yeah well, I got good ears.”

“You actually do, they are quite nice.” Harry said before he realized that that was a very dumb thing to say, but Tuesday only quirked an eyebrow and smiled at him. After she left with her two balls and racket Harry slumped in his chair and groaned again, he wondered if in another life he had girls screaming at him all the time and that was why he had no game in this one.

~~~

(2)“A racket and—”

“Two balls, here you go.” Harry said, mentally high fiving himself at speaking more fluently than last time. “And my name’s Harry by the way. I asked you your named last time but I never got to tell you mine.”

Harry had thought he was being smooth, but Tuesday just gave him an odd look before bursting into laughter.

Harry was shocked at first, like he didn’t know that what he said was funny? But after a couple seconds Harry thought he might turn Bugs Bunny and have his heart jump out of his chest with how hard it began beating at the sound of her laughing. But then he remembered that one Supernatural episode where a guy’s heart _actually_ jumped out of his chest and Harry decided that wasn’t such a great idea. But her laugh made him feel warm and it filled him up with this inexplicable _something_ that pulled involuntarily at the corners of his mouth and before he knew it Harry was grinning like an idiot when he didn’t actually know what she was laughing at. Harry wasn’t actually sure if he cared because hearing the full, loud, vibrant sound was beautiful and it didn’t matter what caused it. Actually it did, because Harry wanted to make note of it so he could try to make her laugh more.

Tuesday stopped laughing enough to try to explain herself, “I-I’m sorry,” she gasped, still giggling, “but honey you have a name tag, I know your name is Harry. Thank you for telling me though, I appreciate it.”

And with that she picked up her racket and balls and left with a little wave and smile, and like clockwork, Harry slumped in his chair and groaned.

~~~

(3)“Hey baby you’re looking fine today, why don’t you lift that little skirt up a tiny bit more eh?”

Harry jerked his head up, already angry because _no one_ deserves to be treated like that and he filled with even more rage when he realized what exactly was going on. Tuesday got a new skirt. It was purple with ruffles and event though it was shorter than her other one and the ruffles swished around her thighs in a way that made it hard to swallow, there was absolutely _no_ reason for the slimy middle-aged man to talk to her as if she was a dog.

Harry was about to open his mouth to tell the guy to shut his filthy mouth, but he was beat to it.

Before he knew it, Tuesday was up in the guy’s space, asking him, “Do you think that just because I wear a skirt a certain length gives you the right to treat me with less respect than anyone else here? It’s a shame to think that your mother never taught you better. Oh and I wonder what your wife would think if she knew her husband was hitting on twenty-year-old women hmmm? Make the world a better place and keep your disgusting comments to yourself.”

And with that she grabbed the racket and two balls that were waiting for her on the counter with a curt, “Thanks Harry,” and walked away.

The whole lobby was dead quiet when Harry cleared his throat and glared at the guy, “So are you gonna actually do something or just loiter here? Because the latter is illegal and I will get to have the immense pleasure of calling the cops on you.”

The man grumbled something about “bratty kids not knowing their place these days” and left the gym, significantly lightening the tension and Harry’s mood.

 

 

~~~

Tuesday left an hour later, which was unusual because she usually stayed for at least two, but Harry guessed it was because of what happened earlier. Harry actually felt slightly creepy because he was on his break and the gas station was in the same direction Tuesday was going, and he kind of felt like an unintentional stalker. He was walking several feet behind her when out of an alleyway the same creep from earlier in the day grabed her and pushed her against the wall.

Before Harry can react, one hand was holding her hands above her head, and the other wasdisappearing inside her skirt, with his mouth on the side of her face whispering God knows what in her ear. A second later Harry wasrunning toward the guy, but before he could get near enough to help, Tuesday bit hard on the arm groping her and kicked him in the crotch.  Once he stumbled back enough to give her room, she rammed the bottom of her hand up his nose, emitting a curse and a cry of pain from the scumbag. Harry watched in awe as the man doubled over in pain, and Harry was gaping by the time Tuesday grabbed him into a headlock and slammed him to the concrete sidewalk, promptly knocking him unconscious.

Harry would’ve been freaked out if it didn’t turn him on so much, and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not. He was wondering if he had any unusual kinks when Tuesday made a sound of approval at her handiwork and dialed 9-1-1, muttering as she waited, “Disgusting pigs need to learn to keep their hands to themselves.” Hearing that, Harry backed away, deciding that just then was probably not the best time for a male to come into her near vicinity and a snack from the gas station wasn’t that important really.

~~~

“Harry! I didn’t know you were coming over, why didn’t you call?” Anne called from the sofa when Harry walked through the doors his childhood home that same afternoon.

“Hey mum, sorry I wasn’t really planning on coming over actually but I think I need to talk to you about something.”

Anne jumped up from her spot on the couch and made her way into the kitchen, Harry following her, knowing what was coming.

“Well you know that only means one thing right? Do you want little or big marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

Harry sighed. “Mum. It’s the middle of July. Do we _really_ need to do this?”

Harry felt bad when Anne looked positively scandalized, “Of course we do! It’s a family tradition and you know how much I love family traditions.”

Harry sat down at the table, giving up on the hot chocolate thing and said, “Yeah well that’s actually why I’m here.”

Anne looked over her shoulder from where she was moving around, grabbing mugs and coca and milk for the hot chocolate, “What do you mean, Muffin?”

Harry groaned, “Why do you still insist on calling me that? I’m not twelve mum.”

Anne chuckled and Harry glared at her back, “One day you’ll realize this when you have kids of your own, but no matter how old you get, you’ll always be my baby and I can call you anything I like. Now why did you walk all the way here to talk to me about family traditions?”

“Well you know the story you used to tell me about that Greek guy named Stylu— _mom are you okay_?!” Harry yelled because right as he said their legendary ancestor’s name, Anne dropped both of the mugs she was carrying to the table, spilling scalding hot chocolate all over herself and the floor. Harry was by her side in a second and pulling her to the sink where he ran cool water over her red hands and arms.

“I-I’m sorry I just. _Harry_ I’m so happy for y _—_ ” Anne started babbling in a wobbly voice.

“It’s all right, just let me fix you up first before you start crying over me okay?” They both chuckled softly and made their way over to the table, carefully picking their way around the spilled mess, after Harry had wrapped cool cloths around his mother’s burned hands. Just as he knew it would, once Anne sat down and looked at Harry full in the face, tears started welling in her eyes.

Harry sighed again, “Can you wait until we are done talking to cry at least? Because, not gonna lie, I’m kind of freaking out because apparently the myth of my great-great-great-etc grandfather beingblessed by the Greek goddess of love _isn’t actually a myth._ I thought that was just a story mom!”

Anne smiled so brightly at him Harry thought her face was going to break, “Oh Harry. My sweet, sweet Harry.” She cooed, making Harry worried that she might have gone insane. “Does this mean that you found The One? Who was it? What did it feel like? Was it a boy or girl? Do they kn—”

“MUM.” Harry yelled, cutting her off. “Calm down and let me answer, _Christ_. It was exactly like what you told me as a kid, it was like there was a bird in my stomach, which is weird I know, but when I saw her—and yes it’s a girl mum—it was like the bird suddenly took flight, if that makes sense? And I don’t know how, but I just—”

“You knew? You knew that they would be the person you would grow old with?” Anne asked softly and Harry nodded mutely. She smiled again and this time it was gentle and so full of love that Harry felt his heart ache.

“So do you know if she has a…you know…”

“Boyfriend?” Harry glumly finished for her, “I dunno, but what if she does? What should I do? Is it gonna be one of those gladiator-fight-to-the-death things where the prize is the love of the maiden? Because we both know I would lose, blessing or not. ”

Anne cupped the side of his face and Harry leaned into her touch, “Don’t worry Muffin, if it is meant to be—and by your description I am sure that it is—then it will all work out in the end. Until then, just be there for her.” And with that she stood up and started picking up the shards of broken mug, leaving Harry to worry in spite of his mother’s comforting words.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably have the second part (which might be a lot longer, I'm not sure yet) by the end of the week?  
> Also I put several refrences to things in the prologue and let me know if you figured them out :) I think there were 3 or 4 techinically


End file.
